X-Men: New Start
by Maiyrhia
Summary: After Jean and Scott's funeral, the remaining X-Men are left broken-hearted, but they have to try to move on. Of course, life throws more than a few spanners in the works...
1. Introduction

**Author's Note - Please Read**

I've changed a lot since I last wrote for this site; I'm an adult now for one thing. I know I've abandoned and deleted a lot of fanfics, including Genetic Legacy which will probably never be finished - but I'm not that person any more. I can promise you, this fic WILL be finished, however long it takes.

Anyone new to X-Men or who wants a refresher course should refer to my profile, where I've linked an X-Men Quick Start Guide.

The events of the first three X-Men films should be taken as canon for this, up to Jean and Scott's funeral. The appendices of X3, the two Wolverine films, and First Class/DOFP should be ignored entirely.

_Introduction_

"... starting out the day with some clouds, but by about eleven we should all be enjoying the sunshine once again..."

Logan scoffed at the weather forecast as he walked past one of the mansion's lounges, talking to itself long after the last person had stopped watching television. Sunshine. Right. That assumed you didn't have a grieving weather witch around. He looked out of the window at the perpetual gloomy drizzle, and shook his head before continuing towards the kitchen to get a beer.

As soon as he opened the door, he had to duck to avoid being hit by a flying whisk, the gale inside threatening to blow him over. "Storm!" he shouted, knowing full well what was causing the indoor tornado. "Cut it out!"

The winds died down almost immediately, revealing Ororo Munroe sitting huddled in a chair, in the middle of the devastated room. "Sorry," she whispered, not taking her eyes off the cape in her lap, part of the uniform she had worn two days ago. It had been such a short time since Jean's death... Scott... the Professor...

Logan hesitated, torn between just getting a beer and comforting the woman he had slowly come to care about. He sighed, knowing that just a short time ago he would have chosen the beer without regret, and deliberately turned his back on the fridge. He had chosen to stay with this team, and apparently that meant having to comfort each other. A moment's searching found him a chair that looked relatively intact, and he sat next to her.

"I can't stop thinking about them, Logan. I'm supposed to be the leader now, and..."

Logan interrupted her before she could finish blaming herself. "Don't. You gotta take some time first. Get over it." He wished someone else could come in and take over from him, someone better at the emotional stuff.

Ororo gave him a look. "So I should just take off? Like you do whenever there's a problem?"

Ignoring the personal jab, he shrugged. "Didn't you say flying calms you down? Before all... this got started?"

"Yes... I suppose I did," she replied quietly, remembering their conversation that day, before Jean's first death. "I might make the weather worse if I try to use my powers..."

Taking the cape from her lap and pushing it into her hands, Logan shrugged uncaringly. "Go on, 'Roro. You need it."

An hour later, Logan glanced out of a window. He could still see Ororo, flying high circles above the three graves, and it was still cloudy, but at least the rainstorm that had been slamming into the mansion for the last hour was finally starting to lighten. He could only guess that meant her mood had improved a little bit, a guess that was confirmed when she began drifting downwards. The cloak he had convinced her to wear billowed behind her, then blew flat against her body as the wind changed under her command.

As Logan watched, Ororo suddenly stiffened. Thunder crashed overhead in response to the sudden agony shooting down her body, and helpless spasms gripped first her left leg, then spread over the rest of her body. Almost blinded by the pain, she reached behind her, to the source of the pain, tugging at her cloak. It came free, and the syringe Ororo saw tangled up in it was enough to stop even the pain momentarily, as icy fear gripped her. All she could do as she fell, her powers failing even as fresh spasms gripped her, was scream.

Logan felt something crack in his left ankle as he landed, and pain lanced up his leg. Most people would consider jumping out of a second-storey window a bad idea, but pain was nothing new to him and the damage would heal. He blocked out the agony and sprinted towards Ororo as she fell, too far away from him. He was only halfway there when she hit the ground - and then she didn't move at all.

* * *

The little girl huddled in the corner of the dungeon. There was a door, yes, but it didn't open. She had tried, once, stretching upwards as high as her three-year-old body could reach until she could just about turn the handle. Never again. Sobs wracked her tiny shoulders as she remembered _her. _As she remembered what lay outside the door if it ever opened again. The pain, the punishment... being forced back in here, the door slamming with a cold laugh...

"I can help you."

The little girl jumped at the sudden voice echoing around her dungeon room. "Who are you?" she called out fearlessly. This was _her_ stinky, cold cell. Nobody ever hurt her in here.

"You won't understand, yet. Just trust me, I can help you."

She stuck her tongue out at the old man's voice - or at least, at one mouldy patch on the wall where it sounded like the voice was coming from. "I said who are you?"

The voice laughed, but it was something the girl had never heard before. Laughter was cold, it was cruel, it was full of promises of _pain_, but this voice was promising gentleness - if the girl knew what a warm hug was, she would have heard it in this laugh. "You always were stubborn. I can't answer that question while you're in there."

The girl's eyes widened in fear as the old man's words sunk in. "I can't go out," she whispered, her voice shaking. "She won't let me..."

The voice was silent for a few moments before replying. "She can't hurt you unless you let her. Open the door and look outside, trust me."

"I can't..." She walked over to the door, but the handle slid further up with every step she took. By the time she got there, it was twenty feet in the air, right up where even grown-ups couldn't reach it. "The handle's too high, mister. I can't reach."

"All right. Why don't you just let me in, then?" The old man sounded disappointed. "You don't have to come outside."

The girl nodded, and turned the handle - now at a perfectly normal height once again. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, not daring to look outside for fear of seeing _her _again. She felt the old man walk in beside her, and slammed the door shut.

[A/N: Chapter 1 is also somewhat short, but after that they start to expand in length. I've got the first seven chapters completely written at the time of publishing this, review and I shall upload the next instalment. I really appreciate reviews, suggestions for what to do better and comments on what I did well. Flames will be laughed at.]


	2. Chapter 1

_Chapter One_

Two days later, Kitty had finally convinced Logan to leave Ororo's bedside. By some miracle she had survived the fall, but had yet to awaken. He had refused to leave her bedside - and no doctor was brave enough to tell Wolverine to go, visiting hours or no visiting hours. Eventually, Kitty had simply threatened to tell Ororo he was refusing to sleep and waiting by her bedside, and he had left, muttering dark promises of revenge. Technically, it was the middle of the night and she wasn't supposed to be here either, but she had proven impossible to remove - she had simply let the doctor's hand phase through her when he had tried to push her towards the door.

Kitty picked up the syringe from where it lay, forgotten, on her bedside. For reasons known only to himself, Logan had insisted it be kept, and so after confirming that it had indeed contained the cure, the doctors had cleaned it and returned it.

"Kitty?"

"Ororo!" Kitty just about managed to restrain herself from hugging her. She was still injured, and hooked up to many machines that went _ping_ that Kitty didn't want to dislodge. "They said you wouldn't wake up until the morning!"

Ororo was silent for a long moment, letting her mind play back over her last memories. Her eyes eventually focussed on the syringe in the other woman's hand. "My powers...?" she asked quietly, hoping against hope, but Kitty just shook her head. "It was caught in my cloak," she murmured, fighting a wave of hopelessness. Her powers were everything to her - she was Storm almost more than she was Ororo. They were part of her very identity, and now they were just gone...?

Kitty winced. "Must have been one somebody stuck in there during the fight by accident. Maybe one of the ones they shot at Jean missed..." She trailed off. "Storm, I'm so sorry," she said quietly, deliberately stressing the code-name.

"Thank you, but..." Ororo took a moment to steady herself before continuing. "Can you really still call me that? I'm not much of a storm any more."

"Sure I can." Kitty smiled at her with eternal optimism. "Last I checked, you're still our leader. You're still the most experienced, and we are _not_ putting Logan in charge of any team. Hurry up and get better, we need you back."

Ororo smiled despite herself. "All right, point taken," she said in the steadiest voice she could manage. "I can at least guide the others, I suppose. How long was I out...?"

"Two days. Me and Bobby have been keeping some of the younger students in line." Kitty's confident tone faltered slightly. "I hope that was okay..."

"I'm sure you're doing fine. Has Rogue come back?"

Kitty shook her head. "Bobby went looking for her yesterday. He talked to some people... she took the cure, and hasn't contacted anyone since."

Ororo shut her eyes. She had hoped that, perhaps, Rogue would have changed her mind before making such a mistake. "I'll find her once I'm out of here. She hasn't got another home to go to here, we're not turning her out." Her tone left no room for debate when it came to taking the former mutant back.

* * *

Charles Xavier had expected to die to the Phoenix's power. He had not expected to survive disintegration, and he most certainly had _not_ expected to find himself floating on the Astral Plane. It had not taken him long to get his bearings once here, though, and he had quickly found a tiny cell floating in a large, empty void.

Crouching beside the little girl, Xavier took her hand gently. He had expected to find her here somewhere after his own survival, but he had not expected to find her so small. The prison was merely a metaphor - for her consciousness being trapped by the Phoenix's personality, no doubt - and her size and age reflected the helplessness she'd felt, but there was still hope. Not much hope, but still enough to work with. "Do you remember your name?" he asked gently, not wanting to stir up any traumatic memories by prodding too deeply too quickly. He could still feel the Phoenix threatening to take over - in that sense, the tiny cell metaphor was protecting what was left of the little girl's mind, just as much as it was keeping her inside.

"My name's Jean," she replied immediately, then frowned in surprise. "Nobody ever told me, though..."

Quickly, before she could think too hard on how she knew her own name, Xavier nodded. "Hello, Jean. My name is Charles." He almost winced as soon as he spoke, wishing he could take it back. Even his first name could provoke the Phoenix... but to his relief, the child simply nodded. "Isn't it a bit cold in here?"

Jean clutched the old man's hand like a lifeline. "There's no fireplace..."

Xavier shot a glance at the handle, now once again retreating up the wall - it had long since departed from the door, and was presently trying to merge with the ceiling, some thirty feet up. He thought of all the lessons they had had here together, him teaching Jean how to control the Astral Plane - but that had been before the Phoenix had emerged, before Jean's mind had shattered. He squeezed her hand gently, comfortingly. "This is your cell, Jean. It can have a fireplace if you want it to. You're safe in here with me, you can make it warm..."

"She'll climb down the chimney!"

Feeling the child start to tremble, Xavier stood, picking her up effortlessly. She seemed to shrink in his arms as he wrapped his coat around her, holding her close. "All right, no fireplace," he agreed. "We can make it warm later."

Jean nodded shakily, tears running down her small face. "Mister?" she whispered as the temperature in the cell dropped a few degrees. "You're not gonna leave, right? Because I couldn't make a fire?"

"Of course not, child." It would, of course, have been easy for Xavier to overwhelm the flimsy remains of Jean Grey's mind and make a fireplace - but not if he wanted to save her. Whether that was even possible was a question he was trying hard not to think about. There was so little left, and the Phoenix was so strong - but perhaps, with time, he could help her recover. Perhaps, if he could restore her, she could learn to suppress the Phoenix on her own. He was certainly determined to try.

* * *

[A/N: I am currently working on chapter _nine_. The more people review, the faster I'll upload! Your theories on what I'm going to do next and where the fic is going are welcome too ;) ]


	3. Chapter 2

Anonymous review reply - You feel sorry for Storm? Well... good! That is somewhat the intention here ;)

* * *

_Chapter Two_

The first thing Ororo did when they discharged her from hospital was to search for Rogue. There were only so many places in the city a homeless girl with very little money could be, and somehow she got the feeling she would not have left. Before she had got cured, Rogue had actually taken to calling the mansion home - Ororo suspected she would still be hoping to return.

It took Ororo almost an hour to work out Rogue would have to leave, sooner or later. She could only hope she hadn't already gone back to Mississippi, and unfortunately the only thing she could do was wait, try to ignore the lingering pain from her injuries, and hope her luck would finally change.

Ororo had been leaning against a pillar for almost two hours, ignoring her throbbing ribs, before almost missing Rogue as she slipped by, cloaked and hooded in a failed attempt at hiding the white streaks in her hair. Wincing as her ribs screamed against any movement, she ran after the younger woman. "Rogue!" she called. "Wait a minute!"

Rogue turned. "Storm? I was just..."

"Come back to the mansion." Pain and a long wait had left Ororo in no mood for small talk.

"I don't know..." Rogue sat on a nearby bench and shook her head, even as she wanted to say yes. "Isn't it a safe place for mutants? I took the cure, and..." _And I have nowhere else to go, and I want to come home..._

Ororo sat beside her gingerly, and smiled sadly. "You wouldn't be the only 'cured' mutant there, Rogue."

"What..." Rogue gaped in shock as she realised what that meant. "You didn't!" Her voice took on an accusing, angry tone. "What happened to '_There's nothing to cure_'? Why did you..." She trailed off as she took in Ororo's heartbroken expression. "What happened?" she asked, more quietly.

"I can't say I understand or support your choice, Rogue. I think you gave up a wonderful gift, but..." She looked down. "You chose your path. I didn't."

"I didn't do it for Bobby."

Ororo held up a hand. "I never said you did. I don't believe you foolish enough to make a choice like that for anyone other than yourself. But he is waiting for you to come home, you know."

Rogue couldn't quite suppress her grin at that news. "I guess I didn't think I'd be welcome back..." Struck by an impulse she could now fulfil, she reached over and took Ororo's hand, revelling in the feeling of skin-on-skin contact. "If there's still a place for me, I'd love to come back."

A slight breeze from an open window ruffled their hair, and Ororo bit her lip hard to hold back the tears. Previously, she would have felt that breeze in her soul, not just on her skin. It would have been hers to command - even if she chose not to, she would have felt it welcome her. Now, it was just a breeze, and she was normal. By way of reply, she pulled Rogue to her feet. "Come on," she said, her voice just a little too calm. "Let's go home."

* * *

That night, it would have rained, had Ororo not lost her powers. But then, had she not lost her powers, the desperate mix of grief, pain and confusion would not have gripped her, and there would have been no reason for the weather to change. She grieved still for her professor and her friends, her cracked ribs felt like they were about to explode, and... she was powerless. She tossed and turned for most of the night before giving up on sleep entirely in the early hours and heading to the kitchen instead.

She found herself still there some time later, watching the wind blow through the branches of one of the trees in the grounds, a cup of now-cold coffee still sitting in front of her. This was exactly what she had feared would happen when she had heard about the 'cure', not necessarily for herself, but for someone. She had seen how many mutants had got shot by the military's cure guns and, Brotherhood or not, she felt some measure of pity for them. She, at least, had a home and friends still willing to accept her.

Her thoughts turned to that topic, as the first drops of rain began to fall on the tree - the first rain that Ororo could remember not feeling coming. Was there truly a place for a 'normal' among the mutants here? Kitty had said so, and everyone had made a point of accepting Rogue back as if all was normal, but Ororo found herself privately doubting. Yes, she was the leader now, a job which should have been Scott's, but along with that should have come her powers. What use was a powerless leader? Eventually, surely, they would grow tired of this situation. They would move on, with a more deserving leader, and she would be left behind. In a way, she was beginning to understand why normal humans were so afraid of mutants.

A sudden _twist_ in her thoughts made Ororo stop. It was only the slightest tweak, the slightest hint of something not quite her own - exactly the same tweak that always happened whenever Jean Grey entered the room. It was the unconscious effect of psychics on those around them, even if they were not consciously reading anyone's mind. "You're going crazy," she scolded herself aloud. "You're getting tired." Forgetting how long she had been sitting in the kitchen, she took a sip of her coffee before gagging slightly and throwing the rest down the sink.

The feeling of Jean's presence had already faded by the time Ororo had managed to bully the X-Men's somewhat reluctant coffee maker into producing another cup of black sludge that theoretically passed as something resembling good coffee. Normally, she had to be careful not to break the thing completely, but now powerless, she simply settled for whacking it as hard as she could when it ignored her. It immediately crawled to life with an unhappy glooping sound, producing first a lot of bubbles and steam, before eventually producing both a mug of not-quite-coffee and an ear-piercing whistling sound that did a far better job than caffeine of waking up its user.

Ororo was finally retrieving her caffeinated sludge when she heard a sleepy yawn from behind her, as Kitty walked in, straight through the door. "Did I wake you?" she asked, taking in the smaller woman's sleepy, dishevelled appearance.

Kitty gave the coffee maker a glance, before deciding that it quite simply was not worth the effort and leaning through the side of the fridge to retrieve a carton of orange juice instead. "No, I felt something really weird a minute ago, it woke me up. Then I heard you using that thing, and..."

She frowned. "What do you mean, you felt something?"

"Like a psychic poking at my mind. Only... I must be going crazy, it felt like..." She trailed off, looking away. "It's impossible. Never mind. I was just dreaming."

"It felt like Jean," Ororo finished quietly. "I felt it too, and I was awake."

Kitty nodded slightly. "Does that mean... she's...? I mean... the Phoenix?"

Ororo shook her head. "The Phoenix died with Jean. I don't know what we felt, but it can't have been her." She made sure to keep her voice calm and confident, but privately she was worried. If she was wrong, if the Phoenix was somehow still here - even if just a small remnant of it - what hope did they stand without a psychic? They could not even confirm whether it was indeed real, let alone make any attempt at resisting it if it was...

* * *

Time was somewhat meaningless in the Astral Plane, but by Xavier's best guess somewhere between two hours and two days had probably passed since he had found Jean. The tiny child had spent most of that time asleep, and all of that time protectively wrapped up in his coat. One small hand reached up and gripped onto his shirt as she yawned. "Mister?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Yes, Jean?"

Jean yawned again before replying, her eyes still closed. "You should sit down, you'll get tired..."

Xavier frowned and glanced around the cell - seeing, to his surprise, an old, threadbare armchair sitting in one corner. "Thank you," he said, sitting down carefully. It made a distinct squelching sound as he put his weight on it - apparently despite having just appeared, it had been sitting in the damp cell for years. He put Jean's tiny body in his lap, brushing a few strands of red hair out of her eyes. "That was very impressive."

Jean was quiet for a minute, then the hand that wasn't clutching his shirt tightly made its way into his empty pocket, and came out clutching something. "What's this?" she asked, with all the naïve curiosity of a real child, as she held up Scott's glasses.

Oh, no. Jean was not ready for this revelation, he knew that. There was no way he could tell her the truth about the visor, but even now he could feel her telepathy - as strong as ever despite her fragile psyche - probing at his mind. She would know if he lied. Saying the wrong thing now could ruin everything, he knew. Refusing to answer was not an option, but triggering memories of Cyclops's death could destroy Jean completely. "It belongs to a friend," he answered, deliberately making sure to use the present tense.

"Oh..." Jean peeked through the glasses at him. "Why have you got it then?" Her face fell when he didn't reply. "Did _she _hurt him?" she whispered.

"Yes... yes, she did," he told her quietly. "He loved you very much, Jean."

Jean nodded gravely, tears once again filling her eyes. She clutched the glasses tighter. "I don't want her to hurt anyone else..."

* * *

[A/N: Review, review, review please! Thanks to the reviews I've had so far - I replied to all signed in reviews, but to stress again: Every review makes my day. Please make my day, I could use it.]


	4. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Reminder - the events of First Class and Days of Future Past should be ignored for the purposes of this fanfic, despite me occasionally borrowing a plot point or two. **

Also, sorry for the delay in uploading. I got caught up writing chapter fourteen(!) and forgot you guys still haven't had chapter three yet -_-

* * *

_Chapter Three_

Things only got worse the next day. Ororo finally managed to fall into a fitful sleep just as the sun was rising, and slept for three disturbed, nightmare-ridden hours before just getting up for breakfast. As usual, the kitchen was full of young mutants causing chaos, and as usual, they all seemed to be using their powers in an attempt at making the situation better. Of course, this only served to create more chaos.

Ororo took a deep breath before entering. This, more than any life-threatening fight, was the true test of whether she could really remain as leader without powers. "Jubilee!" she called, shouting over the general noise at the student currently being the most dangerous. "No fireworks in the kitchen, please! Let's not set the mansion on fire again." To her relief, the students quieted, and Jubilee guiltily stopped firing off fireworks at the ceiling. "No, Bobby, freezing Theresa's eggs won't help yours cook faster! And Theresa, that is not an invitation to scream in his ear," she added quickly, as the latter took a deep breath to use her very loud power. "Kitty, walking through people and taking their toast isn't polite." How much harder would this be once the new students arrived, she wondered, before ducking as the contents of a teapot floated through where her head had been and into a mug on the counter behind her. "Julian, please be more careful with that!"

She had just about got the students in the kitchen under some form of control, trying to ignore the throbbing headache and dizzying tiredness that came from sleeping so badly the previous night, when the doorbell rang. Expecting it was either the postman or a mutant needing sanctuary, she hurried to answer it after shooting one last warning look at the others in the kitchen. What she found made her stop and stare in shock.

Raven Darkholme coughed awkwardly. "Storm..." she started. "Look, I'm just here to talk about Charles."

Ororo blinked, and shook her head to clear it. Mystique was standing on the mansion's doorstep. She instinctively found herself reaching for her powers, and frowned automatically before doing the next-best thing and simply kicking her in the stomach as hard as she could.

Raven, who had been bracing for a lightning bolt, was taken completely by surprise and thrown to the ground. Winded, she held up a hand. "I'm not here to fight this time! Just... let me talk before you fry me."

The wind, uncomfortably cold for the time of year, chose that moment to pick up. Seeing Raven flinch slightly and knowing her cure was at least temporarily a secret, Ororo was unable to help a smirk. Taking full advantage of the convenient weather, she stepped forwards. "I don't need to fry you to take you down, Mystique. Talk quickly."

"Charles Xavier was my brother."

The concept was so ridiculous Ororo had to laugh. "No. Try again."

"If you let me into his room, I can prove it." Raven seemed to realise how that idea was likely to be taken as soon as she said it. "We grew up together, he'll have photos of me stashed where you people won't find them. Look... Storm, they gave me that poison. I couldn't do anything if I wanted to."

Despite herself, Ororo almost believed Mystique. Seeing no reason to reveal her own powerless state just yet, she nodded slightly. "You won't leave my sight, and you won't take anything. When it turns out you're lying..."

"When it turns out I'm telling the truth," Raven snapped, climbing to her feet. "We didn't exactly see eye to eye, but I'm not lying." She brushed past Ororo, heading confidently up the mansion's stairs, past a very surprised Rogue, and towards Xavier's room. "He always kept anything he didn't want me knowing about in a locked drawer," she explained calmly as she entered the room. "I stole one of the keys when I was seven, and he never worked it out. He promised not to read my mind..."

"Sounds like a mistake," Ororo said as she hurried after Raven. She was starting to wonder if it might somehow be true. Certainly the Professor had kept huge secrets from them before - secrets like the Phoenix's existence. It would not have been out of character for him to hide this as well. "Why did you turn?"

"I turned when Erik did," she replied simply, pulling out an old, somewhat rusty key from her pocket and unlocking one of Xavier's desk drawers. "I left before then, but Erik... Look, I'm not going to make excuses or beg. You've got every right to throw me out. But I always regretted not talking to my brother again, and... now it's too late. And after Erik dumped me like week-old garbage, I've got nowhere to go." Finding what she was looking for, she held out an old, yellowed envelope. "It's all in here."

Ignoring for now the issue of Raven's almost-request to stay, Ororo opened the envelope. Inside were several old photographs, some of Charles and Erik together, one even of them with herself, Jean and Scott as children. She smiled at the memories that last one brought back, before continuing through the pictures. In them, Xavier grew younger, accompanied in several by an attractive blonde of about his age. She guessed that was Raven, under an assumed appearance, but it proved nothing. It was only when she reached the earliest one that Raven's claims were proved right. At the very bottom of the pile was an old, battered photograph of Charles Xavier, no more than twelve years old, with his arms around a small blue girl who could only be Mystique.

Ororo looked at the photograph for almost a full minute, thinking, before putting the pile down on the desk. "If it were up to me, you wouldn't be welcome here," she said eventually, her tone cold.

Raven blinked in confusion. "Aren't you in charge now?"

"I doubt Professor Xavier would have approved of us turning his sister away from her childhood home. I don't want you here, Mystique, but it doesn't feel like my choice."

Raven bit her lip slightly, before nodding and leaving silently. The moment she was gone, Ororo turned to Rogue, who was still standing in the doorway watching. "She doesn't know I'm not a mutant now," she said quietly. "And she won't find out. I'm going to make sure everyone else is aware of this. As far as Mystique needs to be aware, you and her are the only cured mutants here."

* * *

Xavier could not begin to guess how long he had sat in the armchair with Jean. He had held her, comforted her, even told her a few things about Scott when she had insisted - memories from when they had first met as young teenagers, long before they had fallen in love. Eventually, he must have fallen asleep, as he now found himself waking up in the armchair. It was noticeably drier than before, and appeared to have gained some stuffing since he fell asleep - and, as he realised, had extended into a sofa. Jean had also moved from his lap to sitting beside him, now visibly older than when he had first seen her here. She looked to be around four years old now, swinging her legs as she waited beside him.

"Professor Xavier?" she asked hesitantly. "You're the Professor?"

Xavier nodded, encouraged and worried in equal measure by her returning memories. "That's right, Jean. How much do you remember?"

"I... don't know. Not much, I think. I... remember some of your lessons..." Jean pulled her legs up, hugging her knees. "Why are we in the Astral Plane?"

Answering honestly was not an option, Xavier knew. He could tell just from looking at her that she was still far too fragile to handle the truth, but he couldn't bring himself to lie to her. "I can't tell you yet, Jean. You'll have to trust me, you're safe here."

"All right..." Jean reached out and took his hand with one of her own, the other still holding Scott's glasses. "I want to make that fireplace now. But I don't remember how..."

"Do you remember what I taught you about metaphors?"

Jean nodded uncertainly. "I think so..." Her small face scrunched up in concentration as she tried to remember. "Nothing here is real," she started slowly. "It all means something... I'm in a cell, and she's outside..."

"You're feeling trapped," he finished, squeezing her hand comfortingly. "It's all right, keep going."

Fiddling with the glasses absent-mindedly, she continued with slightly more confidence. "Powerful enough psychics can just change the metaphor, right? As long as I'm still trapped and she can't get in, I can just... swap it for something else?"

Xavier smiled proudly. "Exactly. But let's try just adding to it first. She can't come down the chimney if the fire's burning, can she?"

Jean's face lit up as his words sunk in. "She'd get burned!" As she spoke, the wall opposite the old, worn sofa shifted and changed, sinking back to form a merrily burning fireplace.


	5. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

* * *

_A scream of pain rang out around the room. "Ororo, help me!" _

_ "Jean!" she shouted, spinning around, but the screams seemed to come from different directions each time. "Jean, I can't find you! Where are you?"_

_ The next scream came with a sobbing cry. "Please, please! You've got to help me, Ororo!"_

Ororo's eyes flew open with a gasp as she realised it had just been another nightmare. She had been dreaming of Jean a lot lately, especially since that unexplained feeling in the kitchen the other night. "Leave me alone," she whispered to the empty room, trying to get her heart rate back under control.

_Find me, Ororo..._

Ororo practically launched herself out of bed at the mental call, instinctively trying to fly and ending up tripping and falling. That had been Jean's voice, and she was definitely not dreaming this time. Frightened by what was either some remnant of the Phoenix, or another psychic pretending to be Jean, she stumbled to her feet and into the hall. "Get away from me!" she shouted, her tone frantic, uncaring who heard or thought she was crazy. "You're not her, get out of my head!"

Logan, fully dressed and with claws extended, burst out of his own room. "Who is it?" he demanded, unable to see any sign of an intruder.

She shook her head, slowly becoming aware of quite how little her night-dress covered. Fighting back a blush, she replied quickly. "I felt Jean again... I heard a voice that sounded like her, in my head... I don't know what it is."

Logan's claws sheathed with a snap, the open wounds left on his knuckles healing over even as he folded his arms. "You're barely sleeping, 'Roro. Last time you felt her when you hadn't slept all night, and you didn't sleep last night either. There's no way it's her."

Ororo sighed, and checked the time. It was three in the morning; she had slept for maybe two hours. "You're probably right, Logan, but every time I do..."

He shrugged helplessly. She almost seemed to be looking to him for advice, but what was he supposed to do to help? He supposed he could get her very, very drunk and keep giving her alcohol until she passed out, but somehow he doubted that he would survive her vengeance the next day - cure or no cure. Besides, the last time he had tried to help, he had wound up inadvertently causing her current condition.

"I just haven't slept well since the... cure." She shook her head, not even questioning what he was doing awake and dressed at this time of the morning. A veneer of control slid over the helpless expression she had been wearing. "Thank you, Logan. Sorry I woke you," she said in a tone that was a little too steady, shutting her bedroom door in his face.

* * *

"Professor..." Jean wouldn't meet his eyes, keeping hers trained on the glasses in her lap. "I remember everything, I think. I remember killing him..." Her voice cracked and broke.

Xavier put an arm around her firmly. "You did no such thing."

"I still remember it," she whispered. "I killed you... I remember Wolverine stabbing me..." In a slightly shakier voice, she added, "That last one _was_ me. I took control for a few seconds..." She took a deep breath and composed herself. "What are we doing here? We're meant to be dead." _And what about Scott? _she thought, but didn't speak the words aloud.

"I'm not completely sure, but I'd guess the Phoenix is responsible." He held her slightly closer as he felt her start to shake again. "Relax, Jean. It doesn't have control of you, and we're all trapped in the Astral Plane. But I'd guess it didn't let you die. Maybe I ended up here because of my psychic powers."

"I remember the Phoenix dissolving you," Jean whispered, still looking like a very small, very upset child. "I tried to stop it..." She shuddered and huddled closer to Xavier. "I don't think I want to remember the details, Professor. I don't want to remember Scott's face when I..."

Feeling Jean's mental defences starting to crumble as her emotions spiralled out of control, and the Phoenix stir outside, Xavier pulled his young student onto his lap once again. Knowing that if he tried to comfort her normally it would likely be too slow, he pushed past her mental barriers and into her confused memories, pulling out and highlighting the happier times - falling in love with Scott, meeting the other X-Men, the school gaining in popularity and pupils, the triumphant end to the X-Men's first mission, and so on - and pushing her memories of the Phoenix down.

Jean's mind almost shattered under the strain, but managed to hold together. "Thanks," she whispered, giving him a tight hug. "Professor... it's going to break in if I just stay here, isn't it? Now I know who I am... it won't leave me alone."

Xavier nodded reluctantly. "You've got enough time here to finish recovering, you're not strong enough to go outside yet. I can help you hold it at bay."

Jean frowned, an adorable pout on her four-year-old face, and shook her head. "It dissolved you! How are you going to hold it at bay? I'm the only one who can stop it..." She bit her lip, knowing full well how badly she had failed to do so before. "I think I can feel it moving around out there... what's it doing?"

He shook his head. "I don't know, but it is doing something."

"I have to open the door, don't I?" she asked quietly, moving to stand in front of him. "Like you said before... when you first found me, I have to open the door and look outside." As she spoke, she tried to gather her confidence. She knew what she had to do, but that made it no less scary. She could change the metaphor around her, she had done it before. Granted, she had never done it with the Phoenix ready to take her over, but she could do it. Maybe if she kept telling herself that, it would become the truth.

Xavier tried to hide his doubt and worry, especially given her near-breakdown of a few moments ago. "If you're sure."

"I'm ready, Professor," Jean said, trying to believe herself. "I just need to open the door and look outside. I can handle that." Jean shut her eyes, and for the first time since waking up, she took control of the metaphor around her. She reached out with her powers, changing it to suit her needs, and when she opened her eyes again, she was no longer a helpless child, but the young woman she had been before. The door flew open at her mental command, and she felt the Phoenix surround her mind once again.

"Careful, Jean," Xavier warned. "Don't try to take control of it, you're not strong enough yet. Just keep it away from us." He stood beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder in what was hopefully an encouraging fashion. Her appearance may have changed, but he could feel her mind was in the same fragile state as it had been before.

"I know," she replied quietly, the cell starting to crumble around them as she walked to the door. "I think I've got hold of it for now." She could easily see the doubt in Xavier's mind, one of the most obvious downsides of being a telepath, and she could feel the Phoenix's vile presence trying to break into her mind. She just had to hold it back, somehow...

* * *

The man stirred, and woke. Everything hurt, his body feeling like it had been ripped apart at the seams, and put back together with bits missing. He tried to ignore his pounding head long enough to figure out just what he had drunk last night to deserve this kind of hangover. Eyes still shut, the man forced himself to sit up. He could see the bright sunlight through his closed eyelids, and dreaded the inevitable result of opening them. Where had he been last night? ... Or the day before for that matter? It was only after puzzling these questions without success for a short time that the man realised he remembered nothing: parents, friends, his job, even his _name_ was blank. Reluctantly, he peeled his eyes open, wincing at the daggers of pain that shot through his head as the light streamed in - then he yelled in surprise as a pair of bright red beams shot from his eyes, and slammed into a window nearby, shattering it as he shut his eyes again.

What the _hell_ was going on?


	6. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Wow, you guys were keen off the mark with the reviews. Here you go, have the next one early. Now, back to writing chapter seventeen...**

* * *

_Chapter Five_

It was the next night before Ororo, exhausted and near panic from the whispers in her head that had come several times during the day, had collapsed into bed and not moved again until morning. When she finally woke, after shutting off her alarm and falling back asleep for another few hours, she found herself feeling if anything more tired than before. Without bothering to do more than shrug on a dressing gown over her nightdress, she made her way sleepily to the kitchen to pry something caffeinated out of the coffee maker. She did her best to ignore the fact that she was supposed to be the headteacher here and she was stumbling around in her dressing gown at 11am, meeting the eyes of the students she passed levelly.

Inside, she found Kitty eating an early lunch. As the oldest - albeit in her case smallest - students, she and Bobby had found themselves with a lot more responsibility than they had expected. With Ororo and Logan the only adults left besides Warren, who was not ready to teach anything, the school had been shockingly understaffed even before their new headmistress's grasp on sanity had started to come under question. There had been important paperwork that needed doing urgently, and Kitty was not about to leave that to Logan, so she had found herself doing most of the work.

"Hey Storm," she greeted as casually as she could. "You look like you slept okay at last."

Ororo nodded, heading for the coffee machine and pushing buttons at random. She managed a tired smile. "I did, thank you."

Putting down her sandwich, Kitty reached inside the coffee machine, solidifying just the tip of one finger. "Cappuccino okay with you?" she asked brightly. Receiving a nod, she tapped one wire inside, and the machine wheezed and groaned into life. "Worked that one out yesterday. I can also get decaff espresso out of it, but beyond that you're out of luck."

"Decaff espresso," Ororo replied flatly. "I don't see the point." She took the mug of sludge the machine had produced, taking a sip and trying not to grimace. "It's as good as ever, thank you."

Kitty ate her sandwich while she waited for the caffeine to kick in. Once the other woman looked a little more alert, she spoke again. "You know school starts in a couple of weeks, right? There weren't exactly a lot of teachers, before... and we're picking up quite a few new kids."

"I know," Ororo replied with a weary sigh. "This is hard at the best of times, and we cannot turn them away, but..." Whatever she was about to say was lost as her voice trailed into silence. "I can hear it again," she finished quietly.

Kitty deliberately kept the bright smile on her face. "I can't hear anything..."

_Ororo, help me. Please, help me... You have to find me, come and find me Ororo, please..._

"I'm not listening," she whispered, not caring what Kitty thought of her talking to the voice in her head. "I'm not listening," she repeated quietly.

Jean's voice sounded again in Ororo's head, only this time instead of the confident, if pleading tone from before, it sounded tired and weak, barely above a whisper. _Ororo, don't listen. It's the Phoenix... _

Ororo whimpered audibly. That last whisper was a clear warning, whether from the depths of the developing insanity Logan seemed to think she had, or from beyond her friend's grave. "Where are you?" she asked aloud, ignoring both Kitty and the footsteps approaching the kitchen.

The second voice, the one she was already starting to believe might actually be Jean, was silent for a long time. When it eventually returned, it sounded strained, as if even this contact was too much of an effort. _Astral Plane. With the Phoenix... don't... don't let it..._

"Jean?" Ororo stood, putting her mug down as she did so. "Jean, can you hear me?" The door opened, revealing - of course - Logan. She held up a hand before he could speak. "Logan, I'm not crazy. I slept fine last night, and I heard her again. Only... she sounded a lot weaker. She told me she's on the Astral Plane, and the one I've been hearing this whole time is the Phoenix."

Logan took a moment to think this over. Either she was crazy, in which case the best plan was to humour her until either they could prove her wrong or they could get her help, or she was right, in which case the situation really was urgent. Whichever was the case, at least pretending to take her seriously seemed like a good idea. "Damn," he replied. "We're not up to fighting that thing again, you know that. And we're not getting to the Astral Plane without a psychic."

"I know." She folded her arms, pacing worriedly. "It told me to find it... Jean told me not to listen. She doesn't want us going there either way. I don't think we can help..."

* * *

While Kitty had taken on the task of dealing with paperwork, Bobby had found himself unexpectedly in charge of co-ordinating the new students' arrival. Convincing reluctant parents that training their children's mutant powers was not a mistake had proven to be the easiest job - he had discovered a rather large headache when a German teenager had called, begging for help. Apparently his mutation was visibly obvious, and German airlines were refusing to allow him to fly; getting him to the mansion without breaking ten different laws was an _interesting_ challenge. Bobby had spent the last two days trying without success to think of a better plan than just switching on the X-Jet's stealth systems and flying over to pick him up, laws be damned, before eventually sending a desperate plea to Beast. The newly appointed ambassador to the United Nations had promised to do what he could, and the teenager had gone to the mansion's grounds to blow off steam.

The incessant barking of a small, fluffy puppy at the mansion's gates was distracting Bobby from the simple pleasure he felt at being a large, wintery snowman in the middle of July. He let the snow fade into his normal clothes, walking over to the gate. "Hey!" he called, tossing a snowball at the wolf-like puppy. "Cut it out, go home!"

The puppy blinked, shook the snow off of its head, and if Bobby hadn't known better, he would have sworn it was about to cry. It took a few steps backwards, stood on its hind legs, and _expanded_. Within seconds, it had doubled in size, its legs growing and forming a more bipedal shape. By the time it was four times its previous size, most of its fur had vanished, even as its head shifted, its canine features changing into human ones. A few more moments later and in front of the gate stood a young teenaged girl, wearing a nervous, frightened expression.

Bobby blinked in surprise, but quickly recovered. "Uh, sorry about that. Didn't realise you're a mutant..."

"I can't go home," the girl whispered, biting back tears.

"Yeah, hang on. Let me get the gates open..." He unlocked the thick, heavy gates, opening them enough for the girl to slip through. Considering her previous statement and the frightened way her eyes darted around, he could only imagine what had happened to her. "Come in, you'll be safe. Bobby Drake, I'm one of the students here."

The girl entered quickly, only seeming to relax once Bobby locked the gate behind her. "Rahne Sinclair," she said quietly, pronouncing the name as _Rain. _

So much for his afternoon off, Bobby thought as he showed the frightened girl towards the mansion. She had to be a runaway, maybe rejected by her parents, presumably the victim of some kind of anti-mutant violence to judge from the rips in her clothing. She clearly had nothing left, and getting her settled in was almost certainly going to end up being another of his responsibilities.

* * *

Two minutes or two months had passed before Jean had had the courage to use her powers to follow the Phoenix's influence into the real world. Xavier had dared not try to help for fear of provoking the angry almost-god, leaving little for him to do but guard her until she opened her eyes again. "It's trying to drive Ororo insane," she reported as calmly as she could manage. She took a moment to shore up her mental defences before continuing. "It's been speaking into her mind, telling her to find it. I managed to tell her to ignore it, but..."

Xavier nodded grimly. "But we're talking about Ororo. She'll try to rescue us."

"She'll try to rescue me," Jean corrected. "I'll apologise for reading her mind if we get out of here, but she doesn't know about you." She deliberately avoided mentioning the minor problem that they were both dead, Xavier without even a body left behind. "As far as she knows, it's just me and the Phoenix here."

They had no workable plan, and they both knew it. If they tried to do too much, the Phoenix would overwhelm Jean and destroy Xavier - permanently this time - and they had no way of communicating further with Ororo. All they could do, for now, was hope that when she inevitably ignored Jean's advice and tried to help, she did not accidentally make things worse.

* * *

It took the amnesiac a few stunned seconds of silence before he realised there had been a shop window in front of him. From the brief glimpse he had got it had looked like a city - and he had seen other people, thankfully unharmed by whatever had just happened. "Hello?" he said, keeping one hand clamped over his closed eyes. "I don't know what happened, can anyone help me? I need help..."

The babble of a frightened crowd was his only reply. This was unhelpful at the best of times, but the language this time made it only worse:

"Cosa succede?"

"Ehi, indietro! Allontanatevi da lui!"

"Cosa sta dicendo?"

"È uno di quei mutanti!"

"Qualcuno, chiami la polizia prima che ci ammazzi!"

All right, so he was in Italy. Judging from the language he was speaking and the accent he had used, he was American, but he could not understand a single word the crowd was shouting. At least some of them sounded angry and potentially violent, and the word _polizia_ had been worryingly similar to the word _police_. "I can't speak Italian," he tried again. "Please, someone, I didn't know it would happen..."

The crowd just kept shouting:

"Aspetta un po', occhi a lasar? Non è quel Cyclops dal telegiornale?"

"Cosa ci fa qui lui?"

"Non è morto?"

"Credo che stia aprendo gli occhi, state attenti!"

"No, ascoltate, vi assicuro che è morto. Fatto a pezzi dalla fidanzata, o qualcosa del genere."

"Non dovremmo correre via?"

"Non ha l'aspetto di uno pericoloso..."

"Pronto, polizia? Abbiamo bisogno d'aiuto!"

* * *

**Author's Note: Yes, a lot of subplots in this chapter. Hopefully it didn't seem too cluttered. **

**One important note: I HATE HATE HATED Nightcrawler's appearance in X2, hence why I'm ignoring it completely and making him a teenager, Evolution-style.**


End file.
